


temptation greets you...

by Lo Turner-Kane (doujinbag)



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Breathplay, Cocaine, Drugs, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Oneshot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doujinbag/pseuds/Lo%20Turner-Kane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the corner of Fiona and Treacle stands a very worn house, but it will never show to be nearly as worn as the people who stay inside.</p><p>Alex is in love with Miles. Miles is in love with sex. Alex loves the sex for a different reason entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	temptation greets you...

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what to say about this.  
> Take your damn badly written smut.

At the corner of Fiona and Treacle stands a house, with ivy growing up the sides of the unpainted exterior and three black metal numbers hanging above the porch to tell everyone that the mailing address for such a house is 505 Fiona Avenue. The inhabitant of this house is a special someone who isn't particularly seen as special to anyone at all, with the exception of one twenty-three year old boy across town.

Miles Kane's home is college dropout Alex Turner's second, although it'd be false to assume that he even had a first. After the death of both his parents in a tragic car accident some years prior, Alex discovered that the back of his '52 Chevy was the only permanent home he'd be able to have for a long while.

But that was before he met Miles amidst a long series of considerably unfortunate events.

Now, he stands at the door of the wilting 505 Fiona Avenue with his hand raised into a fist, although he can't bring himself to knock on the easily rattled storm door just yet. To the neighbors, it might look as if he's a pathetic ex-boyfriend getting the courage to ask for his belongings back, or maybe even a lost high school student too nervous to ask for directions. He thanks his lucky stars that he isn't either of those.

With a cough to clear his throat, he raps on the door _one, two, three,_ four times and takes a small step back. Soon enough, his absolute favorite person in the world appears before him as if by magic, and Alex would be damned if he said he didn't feel his heart flutter just a little bit.

"You're early today," Miles says, glancing at his wristwatch.

"I'm sorry," Alex apologizes immediately. "I can leave if you want—"

"Rubbish. Come in, Al." Miles steps aside and motions for Alex to enter, and once the boy does, he hears the storm door slam behind them just a bit too loudly. "So, what brings you here so early?" Miles asks. He leads Alex into the living room, immediately sitting down on his settee and picking up his burning cigarette from the ashtray on the coffee table. "Cigarette?"

"No, thanks," Alex says with a shake of his head. "I wanted to... talk to you. About things."

"Things, eh?" The taller lad blows a jet of smoke off to the side as Alex hesitantly takes a seat on the opposite side of the settee from him. "Oh. Is this about—"

"No, it's not what you're thinking it is," Alex interrupts. "I do think we should, however, talk about... _this_ in general."

"What might 'this' be?"

"Us. You, me, our... I- you know what, Miles, it's been two years of this and I'm still confused as fuck as to what we are. Are we even anything at all, really? Or is this just some abstract sort of... hobby to you? Please, I just need to know. I need to know what we are."

Miles doesn't give a response, but Alex doesn't bother begging for one. He knows sooner or later, Miles will have the words to say whatever he's thinking of saying. And, two and a half cigarettes later, he's right. "You know what we are, love," Miles says at last. "I love you, yeah? I want to help you, take care of you, be there for anything you need."

"Yeah? What about Suki?"

"Oh, forget her, Al. She's not my girlfriend any more than the sky is yellow. We both know that. She's just a... a little game, I suppose. For fun."

"How do I know I'm not a little game too, then?" Alex questions, fighting the urge to raise his voice.

"Because," Miles begins, "I actually say I love you and mean it."

With that, he stubs out the current cigarette in his hand and crawls across the couch to reach Alex, fingertips grazing the back of his hand lightly. Alex takes one look at him and that's all it takes for him to be pulled into a kiss. There's a hand on his hip and one in his hair and all he can taste is the stale aftermath of cigarette smoke but Miles's lips are so _warm_ and he feels like he's falling although he knows he's not going anywhere.

"Miles..." he moans against the other man's lips, quietly, breathlessly.

"Shh, baby, I've got you. You're safe with me, remember?" Miles says in between kisses. Alex answers with a nod and another moan as he feels Miles's lips trace over his jawline, his neck, then back up to his ear. His hips accidentally jolt up as Miles nibbles on his earlobe, and he's so unexplainably glad that he isn't high at the moment so that he can enjoy every ounce of this in complete sobriety.

It soon becomes that they're just a mess of hands and legs and hips and mouths and hair, and nothing else is too distinguishable. Once they have their clothes scattered around the floor, Miles takes to kissing down the center of Alex's chest, stopping every now and then to add another perfectly large hickey to his skin. One more hickey just below his belly button causes Alex to moan loudly and yank Miles up by his hair, so that once again they're face to face.

"Just fuck me," he whispers, his breath hot on Miles's cheek. "Fuck me so hard that I can't think of a goddamn thing."

And, of course, Miles reaches under the couch for their little hidden stash of lube and condoms, both things being tucked away safely in a worn shoebox completely vandalized with Sharpie. Alex closes his eyes as Miles's skilled fingers get to work, prepping him nice and slow, just the right pace that Alex is always addicted to. Miles is better than any drug.

Once Miles is two fingers in, Alex is gasping and panting and begging for more, more, _more._ "Oh, god, I love you, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou oh god _please,_ Miles," he cries out, moving his hips along with the rhythm of Miles's fingers.

"Shh, baby, relax, just relax," Miles shushes, and Alex can only groan and lock his legs around his waist in response.

Once Alex makes it through three fingers and pretty little beads of precum are dribbling down the side of his aching member, Miles slides on a condom and keeps Alex's legs spread wide as he pushes into him with a quiet _"God, I love you."_ Alex watches his lover's steady face with needy eyes as he feels himself being filled to the brim, his hands wandering back into Miles's silky albeit unbrushed hair.

Alex's mind is still swirling and thinking about everything in the world during the first few slow thrusts, but as Miles picks up pace, he finds himself focusing more on all the pleasure racketing through his body and not so much on anything else anymore. With his eyes shut tightly, he lets Miles kiss down his neck and across his collarbone time and time again, and he honestly never wants for him to stop.

"You feel good, baby?" Miles purrs in his ear, and Alex's throat lets out a pleased little squeak in response. "You feel so good, so warm, you're so good for me. You're perfect."

Miles thrusts directly into one particular spot inside of Alex that causes him to scream out a string of jumbled words that don't even sound like English to his own ears. Miles smirks and continues to hit there again and again, causing tears to prick at the corners of Alex's eyes. The brunet's mouth hangs wide open in a silent moan and he struggles to catch his breath on each thrust, but he doesn't care. Everything just feels too good.

When it seems apparent that Alex might end up coming before Miles wants him to, the dominant lover wraps his thumb and forefinger tightly around the base of the boy's cock, forming a sort of makeshift cock ring so that he can't come even if he wanted to. Alex looks up at him as if he just got an idea and, taking Miles's other hand out of his hair, he moves it down to his neck and prays that he understands.

"You want me to...? Oh. _Oh._ Well, babe, why didn't you just say so?" Miles snickers. He wraps his hand slightly tighter around Alex's throat, continuing to thrust mercilessly into him. Alex grasps onto Miles's wrist and holds on tight, not wanting him to let go even once. As he feels Miles continuously ram into his sensitive bundle of nerves, he tries to moan and gasp for air, but the air doesn't arrive in his lungs, and he allows for his eyes to roll in the back of his head with his lips parted wide.

"You look so fucking perfect," Miles groans. "Fuck, Al, baby, I'm close. Shit, I'm close." He lets go of Alex's cock, and one more thrust is all it takes for both of them to come. Alex's vision blacks out completely and he feels his head spinning around and around, but in a _good way_ this time. He screams out in a moan as Miles's hand frees from his throat and his back arches off the couch, coating his stomach with his own cum.

When he can both see and breathe properly again, he can still feel electricity tingling through his fingers and down his spine. Miles leaves the room for a moment, but he returns cleaned and with a wet washcloth in hand to clean Alex up with.

After tossing the dirty washcloth in the laundry, Miles proceeds to pull Alex into a hug, kissing the nape of his neck. "You were so good, babe," he praises. Just as Alex's eyelids slip shut, Miles reaches under the couch again, although this time for something else.

"What are you doing?" Alex mumbles tiredly.

"Oh, don't think I forgot about you, babe," Miles says. "Here you go." Next to Alex's body, he places a small plastic bag half filled with white powder— Alex's second favorite thing in the world.

Alex brings himself to sit up and he shakes his head. "I don't need it today, I'm trying to stop..."

"Babe, don't be ridiculous. We all know how that always ends up," Miles comments. "Come on, take it, it's all yours. Only the best stuff for my baby, hm?" Alex nods and plays with the plastic bag between his hands, staring almost lovingly at the drug; his _payment_ for being so very good. "I told you, Alex, I'm always gonna take care of you. Promise."

Alex just smiles as he begins shaking out some of the powder onto the glass coffee table, using a spare card on the table to organize it into two pretty white lines. "I know, Miles," he says, rolling up a dollar bill that his lover places into his hand. He snorts one line and sighs blissfully, relaxing back against Miles's chest. "I love you too."

At the corner of Fiona and Treacle stands a house, with ivy growing up the sides of the unpainted exterior and three black metal numbers hanging above the porch. At 505 Fiona Avenue, the house is breaking down, deteriorating, but a certain twenty-three year old's demise has only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://spookymileskane.tumblr.com) / [instagram](http://instagr.am/and.a.smile)


End file.
